Chapter 58

Cole

Ciomadul, Carpathian Mountains, Romania

H e was covered in blood. Had ripped out more than one witch’s heart with his bare hands. His hair and clothes were liberally coated in ash, thanks both to the cloud of volcanic ash overhead and the witches he was disintegrating with the death magic coursing through his blood. A feral grin extended across his face, a raucous laugh bursting from him, as he watched another witch splinter and shatter into dust in front of him. They fucking took his Angel—

His heartbeat slowed suddenly. He blinked. He could breathe fully again. The first full inhale he took brought with it orange and cinnamon with the faintest hint of fire.

Cole could think again, although he didn’t know the cause. But he could smell his little witch, that spice and citrus scent unique to her. His eyes scanned the blood-soaked field, passed over the witches still fighting corpses and a hooded figure that he didn’t remember being there when all this started, the three-headed dog… where the fuck was she? He knew that he would descend into madness if she died, but he didn’t expect mental clarity while he did so.

Finally, he turned, staring at the trees behind him. There, by the trees, was another gathering of witches. Far out in front of them, tearing across the field in a full sprint, was a small blur, auburn curls streaming behind it. Evie.

She’s a-fucking-live . In the time it took him to recognize what was happening, she had crossed the battlefield already. Before he could move, Evie had taken a flying leap, her face buried in his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, body shaking against his.

He plunged his hands into her hair, threading his fingers through her thick curls, relished that silky smoothness he thought he would never touch again. “Fuck, Angel, I thought you were dead,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I can’t fucking do that again, sweetheart, please don’t leave me again.” Tears were running down his face, drawing tracks through the filth on his face.

Evie was sobbing. “It w—w—w—wasn’t intentional,” she gasped out.

He snorted at her response, the sound a bit wetter than usual given his tears. “Ever a brat I see, mon amour .” Her lips tilted upward, not quite a full smile—there was too much anguish in her eyes for it to be that—but still enough to make his chest tighten at the familiarity of the expression.

“As sweet as it is to see the two of you together once more-” A voice floated up to him. He looked down to where a familiar looking witch, hands wreathed in fire. stared up at them in mild disapproval. “Maybe you should claim your throne before the dissenters take advantage of your distraction.”

“Perhaps,” Cate commented, calling her familiars to her side. “You could leave Cerberus with us to help take care of these murderers.”

“He’s all yours,” Cole responded before glancing down at the precious package in his arms. “You gonna make me carry you to our throne or what?”

“Might as well.” She sniffled, tears finally ebbing as he took a firm grip on her ass—for stability, obviously—and set off towards the pathway under the volcano. “Sets a good precedent that you’re at my beck and call for the rest of our immortal lives.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think there’s any doubt that I’m going to be wrapped around your finger for the rest of eternity, but I’m still happy to carry you.” The screams and sounds of battle fell away as they walked through the mud, finally crossing under the threshold of the volcanic bank. “Are you alright?” His eyes scanned her face for injury.

“I… well, physically, I’m fine.” Evie tightened her arms around his neck, bringing her body closer to his in a desperate hug. “But emotionally? That’s another story.” Her eyes glowed up at him. “The witches who attacked us—the traditionalist elders—they slaughtered the witches who opposed the prophecy. So many of them.” A lone sob escaped her.

Cole inhaled sharply. “What?”

Evie nodded, tears pouring down her face once more. Each one broke him a little bit. “They murdered Chloe.”

“Sweetheart.” He stopped, staring at her. “They killed your mother?”

“Yes. Hesteia saw it. She’s gone, just like that, and the last things I ever said to her were accusations. And then they came to execute you. Us. So that we couldn’t take the throne and stop their prophecy.”

Standing in the middle of the path to the Underworld, he squeezed her to him hard, letting his witch sob every emotion, every trauma, every horror, into his chest. For all that he wanted to turn right back around and finish the annihilation he had started so he could make the Council pay for everything they had done to her, Evie needed him to be strong for her. To be here for her.

It seemed like hours in the dark tunnel before her tears dried, but he held her through all of it.

“Tell me what you need, Angel.” He stroked a tear from her cheek. “Tell me whatever you need from me, and I’ll make it happen.”

Evie looked up at him, her eyes still glittering with despair but dry. “I need us—” Her voice hit hard in emphasis on that one word. “To go take our throne, my love. We need to seize our immortality and prove to these traditionalist assholes that their horrifying, murderous time is done .”

Cole gazed down at his fierce little witch. “You’re amazing, mon ange .” With that, he obeyed his woman’s order and kept walking.

The pathway had a sharp decline, descending further and further beneath the earth. Lights in varying shades of blue, ranging from a pale, almost white-blue to the cobalt blue of their magic, floated along in front of them, providing barely enough illumination for him to see where he was walking.

They walked miles, so far that Evie finally dropped from his arms to walk next to him, before they came upon a river that stretched as far as the eye could see. The water was dark as night, small glimpses of starlight winking at them from its depths as it flowed gently downwards. At the water’s edge sat a small wooden boat in alarming disrepair; in it sat a tall man, skin as dark as the waters of the river in which his boat sat. As he lifted his gaunt face towards them, he turned eyes the color of molten gold upon them. His rough voice was warm when he spoke. “My lord? My lady? Is it really you? Have you returned after all these years?”

“In a way. We’re Kore and Aidoneus’ reincarnates, but we’re distinct from them if that makes any sense. I’m Evie, and this—” Evie fluttered a hand at Cole, who seized it and drew his witch back into him. “—is Cole.” She gave the man a small smile. “And you must be Charon?”

"I am." His thin lips stretched wide in happiness. “You look so like them but not. You, Queen Evie and King Cole, have lived much different lives than they did. It’s all in the eyes.” Charon stood, drawing to his full height—which stood well above Cole’s own 6’5”—his long robes unfurling around him with the movement. “May I escort you to your throne, my lord and lady?”

Cole nodded. “Please. It’s a matter of some urgency that we get there quickly.”

Charon chortled as they settled into the boat. “I imagine it must be, given the urgency with which the young pup raced out of here.” He withdrew a long pole from the interior of his cloak, digging it into the water to set them on their way. “He hasn’t been that excitable in many years. Since the last time that he was summoned to protect the Underworld’s royalty.”

Evie looked up at him. “Do you know when that was?”

“Why, when you were just a small babe, my lady.” Charon’s movements were effortless, his pole lifting in and out of the water elegantly. The boat sped along, the rock face on either side of them a blur. Even with his attention on navigating them along the poorly-illuminated river, the boatman still noticed Evie’s eyes widen in shock. “I have waited for your return for many millennia. With each new generation, I watched the five rivers for a sign that the rulers of the Underworld had been reborn. When your mother decided to abandon you and she died upon laying her hand on you, I saw it in the river’s depths and knew who you were. It’s my duty to protect you. So I sent Cerberus to care for you, watch over you, until you were safe.” He smiled gently. “The young pup has loved you both from afar for many years since then, often—pardon my pun—hounding me to go to the surface to see you until you returned to claim your thrones.”

Charon tapped his pole against the river’s edge, slowing their speed enough for the boat to nose gently against the shoreline. “Here is your stop, your highnesses.” He bowed reverently to them as they stepped from the boat. “I am happy to see your safe return.” When he stood, tears had formed at the edges of his arresting eyes. “I loved your predecessors as my own kin and have missed them dearly. I look forward to having a similar relationship with you both.”

Cole nodded, arm wrapped around Evie, watching Charon disappear into the darkness before either of them could answer. Evie turned in his arms, raising her eyes to his. Even covered in blood, ash, and other unrecognizable substances, she was still the most stunning woman he had ever seen. More so for that glimpse aboveground, however brief, of what his life would be like without her. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, he asked quietly, “Shall we?”

Her eyes sparkled up at him. “I think we shall.”

And together, they turned to face the looming gates of the Underworld.